


Cum-On: The Grudge

by oofoe



Category: Ju-on: The Grudge (2002), The Grudge (US Movies)
Genre: F/M, Ghost Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 06:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oofoe/pseuds/oofoe
Summary: In which a guy fucks the curse of an old murder house away, in a spiritual (heh) successor to my Ring fic from a while ago. Wait what do you mean I missed Halloween?





	Cum-On: The Grudge

Our protagonist couldn’t believe what he was doing. It was fucking _stupid_. Not that he, you know, bought into the whole “the murder house is cursed” rumor, but still, why risk it, you know? And all to impress a girl, how stupid… then again, her ass _was_ pretty great. And if all that he needed to do to score a date with her was spend a night in this creepy house, that was worth it. Even if it _was_ possibly cursed by the vengeful spirit of a murdered woman. Which, you know, it _most likely _wasn’t.  
  
  
Unfortunately for him, it was _absurdly_ cursed by the vengeful spirit of a murdered woman, who had taken notice of him the second he stepped onto her property. Saeki Kayako was once a beautiful young mother, living a not-so-great life with her shitty husband and their beloved son, until the aforementioned husband decided to stab her to death and drown the boy because he thought she was cheating on him. She was understandably quite angry about this and thus became an onryō, a spirit bent on revenge. Even after killing her husband, however, she continued to haunt her house, killing any who entered there, no matter how far away or for how long they ran from her.  
  
If you have any further questions, go watch the movies.  
  
Thus, our hero, whose name has been removed to protect the innocent, was in grave danger. As soon as he entered the house, Kayako was watching him. Every move he made, every breath he took, she was inches away, completely imperceptible to her prey. Toshio, her son, was not far behind, as per usual, waiting for his mother’s cue to begin their usual murderous routine. However, something seemed… different, about this man, to Kayako. The way he carried himself, perhaps, or something about his voice, maybe it was his clothes or… his face?  
  
Yes, that was it.  
  
For the first time in a while she felt something other than an all-consuming lust for murder. Something she hadn’t felt since before she was murdered.  
  
See, the reason that her husband Takeo thought she was cheating on him was, well, she _was_. Not physically, mind you, but emotionally… her heart belonged to another man. She was _obsessively_ in love with him, ever since she’d met him in college, and even more so once she’d met him again after he became Toshio’s teacher. Everything about him was _perfect_. His smile, his laugh, his voice, his scent, how he treated others, he was the perfect man. So perfect that Kayako died for him.  
  
And this man, the man who’d just entered her house, he was that man's spitting image.  
  
Despite having no blood to rush to her cheeks, Kayako found herself blushing. She barely let out a thoughtless croaking sound before catching herself. The intruder thought he heard something, but figured it was the house settling. He rolled out his sleeping bag, went through his Twitter timeline, and eventually fell asleep.  
  
The next morning, he woke up, none the worse for wear besides a sore back. After making sure he was, in fact, still alive, he collected his things and left the house. He didn’t notice the pool of lady juice that’d appeared on the floor not far from where he slept, nor did he realize that the spare underwear he’d brought in his bag was missing. And of course, the presence of Kayako, huddled up in the corner, inhaling deeply against the pair of boxers she was pressing against her face with one hand and furiously masturbating with the other, was something that completely slipped past him.  
  
A few days passed, and the man’s life went on as normal. Turns out the girl he’d gone into the house to impress was messing with him, she already _had_ a boyfriend. Once again, an excellent ass drove him to waste his time. At this point, it’d been so long since he’d dated anybody, hell, so long since he’d _gotten laid at all_ that he’d do it with any girl who so much as showed interest in him. Ugly, fat, he’d even fuck a zombie if she had a nice butt. He just needed to get laid, and _soon_.  
So, as he turned in for the night, he considered jerking one out before bed, to help get the edge off. He decided against it-- it was already late, and he had to work in the morning. Soon, his eyes were closing and he was drifting off to dreamland…

_ Slurp, slurp, slurp.  
  
_

He was awoken by the unmistakable sensation of his dick getting sucked.

All he could muster in response to this was a tired mumbling of “...five more minutes…” before settling back into bed, only for his eyes to shoot back open as he remembered that he lived alone. Thoroughly confused and slightly terrified, he pulled his sheets off in a flash, only to find his own hard, slightly wet cock and nobody sucking it. “H… what?”

There was undeniably a bit of spit on his dick, and his underwear was down, but there was no obvious cause. Weird. Oh well.

He got out of bed. He was awake now, must have been around 2 AM, so he figured it was time for a midnight snack. It was probably the wind or something that did that weird shit, ya know? No reason to let it get to him.

As he walked barefoot across the hardwood floor of his apartment, he was completely oblivious to the presence of Kayako, watching him walk around from around the corner. Normally, when she followed somebody home to enact the curse upon them, she did so with her son not far behind. Tonight, however, her intentions were different, and thus, she made sure to have Toshio stay home. Unfortunately, her target had woken up earlier than anticipated (perhaps she’d been _too_ aggressive), throwing a wrench into things.

For the first time in as long as she could remember she was _nervous_. Her heart would be skipping a beat if it still beat at all, and she found herself thoughtlessly fixing her stringy, ink-black hair. She had hoped he wouldn’t wake up until she was done, so that she could avoid actually confronting him, but now… well, seeing him shirtless, walking around, still-hard cock tenting those boxers, she decided to swallow her fear and just get to it. And so, she approached him in the sexiest way she knew how.

A chilling death rattle scratched out of the ghost woman’s throat, catching the man’s attention. He turned to try and find the source-- was the air conditioner broken?-- just in time to catch a set of ten chalk-white fingers curling unnaturally around the door frame to his bedroom from the other side, followed by a slow moving, wide-eyed woman, face barely visible beyond the veil of pitch black, uneven hair that flowed out of her head.

He put down the ham and cheese sandwich he was making. “Ah, fuck.”

The woman, still choking out that unearthly sound, seemed to _fall_ to the floor with a loud thud, before coming as close as she could to ‘steadying’ herself with her lifeless hands. With a threatening quadrupedal gait she began to slowly crawl towards the man, who had begun trying to convince himself this was a horrible nightmare.

“C-C’mon, this isn’t-- ghosts aren’t real,” he muttered, trying to deny the evidence to the contrary that was making her way towards him. “You’re not real! S-stop being real!” He threw the first thing he could reach, a spoon off the counter, in her direction, only for it to harmlessly bounce off of her head.

She continued to approach. Through her hair she could see that he was still hard. Perfect. Her seduction was going just as planned. Unfortunately, her prey was now hurrying into the bathroom, quicker than she could reach him, and locking the door behind him. She reasoned that he must be going to jack off, as he doesn’t want to force himself on her, how gentlemanly! _She’d _be much less polite.

He switched on the light and sat in the bathtub, closing the shower curtain as an extra layer of ‘protection’ from the spirit that he was convinced wanted him dead. It wouldn’t work, obviously, but it was worth a shot.

The lights flickered for a second. Nothing to worry about.

They flickered again. The woman was in the tub with him, mouth agape, still letting out that gurgling sound. It was so sudden his body didn’t even register his fear enough to scream. Even more sudden was the disappearance of his underwear from his groin. And more sudden than that?

Kayako’s head was down between his legs, and she was gently pressing her lips to his dick.

“W-what the fuck?”

Now that she was close up, and looking up at him with her big, soulless eyes, the hair no longer concealing her face, she was… she wasn’t _ugly_. Sure, she was supernaturally pale, and gaunt, and was making a wide-eyed expression that didn’t belong on a human face, but like, aside from that stuff, you know? Had she been alive, she’d almost be exactly his type.

He found himself unable to move, probably paralyzed by sheer terror. The only parts of his body that he could manipulate were his eyes, which he used to scan the rest of his assailant aside from her face. Her hair was as frayed and poorly maintained as one would expect from the undead, her clothes were stark white aside from the occasional bloodstone, and covered most of her body. The most he could make out of it was her general figure, which was… actually pretty nice.

Once he saw that her ass was _pretty big_, a pair of sizable soft cheeks visible even through the cloth of her dress, he came to a startling realization: She _was _exactly his type, down to the finest detail, aside from the whole “dead’ thing. Fuck. His boner wasn’t going away, was it? He was getting _harder_, wasn’t he?

Did he wanna fuck this murder ghost?

When she eventually took his cock into her mouth, all the way down to the base in a single motion, accompanied by a raspy gag as it hit the back of her throat, that cemented his perverse desires. He was _definitely _going to fuck this murder ghost.

Kayako _relished_ the feeling of her lover’s cock in her mouth. The way it twitched so cute, the dribbles of precum leaking out the tip directly down her throat were simply delicious. She ran her tongue quickly, gracefully even, across every surface of his dick that she could reach, which was pretty much _every_ surface, taking note of every bump, every vein, every single feature of she tried to commit to memory. It was so much different feeling when he was _awake_.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah,” the man groaned. He decided to just close his eyes, lean his head back, and let her do her thing until he was ready to go to the next step of this. It was tough getting comfortable in a bathtub like his, but having a hot ghost babe sucking your dick lets you forget about otherwise less-than-ideal conditions.

He was closing his eyes. Why was he closing his eyes? Kayako wondered if she wasn’t doing this good enough. No, that must be it. There’s no other explanation, she was simply failing. A failure. Dammit, not again. This time, she wouldn’t let the love of her life (afterlife?) get bored of her. Nor would she murder him, like last time. No, this time she’d make it so he had no _choice_ but to love her back.

When she stopped sucking his cock, he figured she was just taking a break. Coming up for air. Though, would she need to breathe, as a ghost? Either way, he didn’t think much of it until a bit of time had passed, at which point he cautiously opened his eyes. Our protagonist realized that he was no longer in the bathroom, he was on his bed. Not that he could see as much, anyway, he had to guess that based on the feeling beneath him. His sight, at the time, was obscured by Kayako’s face, now centimeters apart from his, her mouth still open and her eyes staring deeply into his own. Her hair framed his vision, keeping anything in his periphery from being visible.

“U-uh,” he stammered, not sure what to say in response to the situation. He figured that this must have been it. The blowjob was just a last kindness before she finally took her unearthly vengeance. “P-please, don’t, uh, k-kill m-”

Unknown to him, just out of sight, her spectral pussy was hovering just above his dick. Before he could finish his plea for mercy, she slammed it down on him in a sudden motion, almost like a spasm of her lower half, engulfing his entire length in her womanhood in an instant.

They let out twin moans. His was a deep, familiar sounding growl, the feeling of her cold but comfortable cunt sending shivers of pleasure from his dick up through his entire body. Hers, meanwhile, was what you’d expect a dead woman’s cries of satisfaction to sound like. It was loud and drawn out, something like a wet clicking as her head violently snapped back, her entire upper half pushing off of him at once to set their coupled arrangement to a more traditional cowgirl position.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he muttered, an expression of surprise more than anything. Instinctively his hands found her hips, gripping them tight, ignoring the fact that they felt as dead as the rest of her.

Kayako just kept rattling. If she was enjoying herself, it looked the same as every other emotion she expressed, but our hero didn’t let that get to him. Figuring he’d do the gentlemanly thing and put in his fair share of the work, he began humping up into his undead mistress,_ hard_. This got some kind of reaction from her, he hoped a good one, in the form of one of her hands steadying her against his chest, and the other running itself through her long black hair.

It felt so _good_. She hadn’t had a cock like this since… ever? Fuck, it was true. Even when she was alive she never had something like the heavenly manhood that was presently turning her pussy inside out. Takeo was _right_ to think she’d cheat on him, with how bad he was in bed, honestly. But this guy had only just _begun_ to fuck her and she was already his. It was incredible.

“Why is this…” He grunted, bottoming out in her with a hard thrust, before continuing, “...the best pussy I’ve ever had?” He couldn’t help from giving her ass a quick, loud _smack_. Judging by the _squeak_ she let out and the way her insides were tightening around his length in response to it, he did something right. “You like when I smack you like that, babe?”

Did he just smack a ghost’s ass and call her _babe_?

She responded the only way she knew how, with an even louder groan, before starting to ride him back, meeting each of his upwards thrust with a downwards, jolting one of her own.

He could feel her getting wetter by the second. By now, a stain was forming beneath them, from a combination of his sweat and her juices. They’d only been going for a couple minutes, but they were _both_ getting close to their climaxes. It had been a long time for them both, after all.

He wasn’t ready to give up yet, though.

He sat up, keeping himself inside her before pushing her onto her back, switching from cowgirl to missionary in a single, smooth motion. Not long afterwards he started to pick up the pace, pounding her with renewed intensity as his uninvited guest wrapped her arms around his shoulders and started digging her colorless fingernails into him. “Nngh, fuck!”

If she could talk, she too would have sad “Nngh, fuck!” Instead, she just groaned like an animal as she felt those big nuts of his slap against her every time the tip of his cock kissed her g-spot, which was about once every half-second at this point. Without even thinking, and with jerky motions that called to mind those of a rusted over animatronic, she locked her legs around his back, hoping to keep him inside of her for as long as inhumanly possible.

His eyes widened ever so slightly. Did she want him to cum inside? I guess that makes sense-- ghosts probably can’t get pregnant, right? Well, he wasn’t gonna turn _down_ the murder ghost he was balls deep inside of, at any rate. In fact, he was flattered, and perhaps not thinking straight. So, he took the next logical course of action: He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, bringing the pair into a deep, tongue-filled kiss that was almost as loud and wet as what was happening on the opposite end of their bodies.

The bed shaking beneath them, the cock spearing her insides, the tongue wrestling against hers… Kayako, for the first time since she died, didn’t even feel an _ounce_ of that murderous intent that surged within her. She felt _happy, _even, completely at ease in her soul. Maybe this is what she needed all along? Not revenge, but a good, hard _fucking_ by a guy who knew what he was doing.

It was when this realization set in that she came, moaning louder than ever into the man’s mouth as her cunt spasmed around his manhood.

He pulled away from the kiss, strings of spit still connecting her mouth to his. He could feel her tightening and convulsing around his dick and knew what it meant, and in turn could feel his _own_ climax fast approaching. It was going to happen any second now, in fact.

“F-fuck, I’m…” He picked up the pace. “I’m...” He mentally paused. What… what was her name? The rumors definitely mentioned her _name_, and it’d be really rude of him not to remember it. Sadako? Hisako? Tabitha? No, no… _Kayako!_ Of course!

And so, he let out a cry of “Kayako! Fuck, I’m cumming!” He ground his lower half into hers, letting out a deep sigh of relief as he began to unload himself inside her.

Did he just say his name? He knew her name? H-he said her name while he came inside her? Jesus fuck, that was so fuckin’ _hot_. She dug her fingers into his back and tightened her legs around him. She never wanted it to end. Neither did he.

Hours later, he was woken up by the sunlight peeking through his window hitting him square in the face. He expected to be in the same position he’d first fallen asleep in the night before, the entire experience with Kayako to have been a dream. He was (pleasantly?) surprised to find himself still wrapped in her arms, the ghost’s cold dead hands around his back. At some point, they’d rolled onto their sides, and onto the pillows.

She was asleep still, and actually looked _content_. He really got to take in just how cute she actually was when she wasn’t making inhuman faces or letting out horrific ghost noises, and felt a slight swelling of pride in himself for achieving something he was sure nobody else ever had: literally _fucking_ the lust for revenge out of a ghost.

He decided not to wake her, waiting until she roused on her own to ask if she wanted breakfast, or if she even, like, needed to eat anything.

* * *

A few weeks had passed. Kayako had started living in the apartment, figuring that Toshio was old enough to haunt her old house on his own from now on. She’d found a more _fulfilling_ unlife for herself, and the less things around that reminded her of her previous one the better. That is, as a stay-at-home fuckbuddy for the man who she’d fallen for. She planned to wait until he actually died (of natural causes, cuz murdering him would probably sour things) to ask him to go steady, cuz intercorporeal relationships tended not to work out.

Our hero, meanwhile, was living life with a renewed vigor. He had just gotten a promotion, he had a new hot ghost girl that lived in his house and sucked his dick, everything was looking up for him! He could not _wait_ to get home that night and let Kayako sit on his face.

Though, he’d probably check out that thing his cousin sent him first. Some weird VHS tape, that he apparently just _had_ to watch as soon as possible...


End file.
